Playboy Princes (Royals of Arbon Academy, #2)(58)

“Our little princess is tired,” Rafe said, and surprisingly enough, he didn’t sound like an asshole. There was almost affection in his voice.

Jordan made an unhappy rumble of a sound. “I don’t think she’s sleeping well. We need to end this fucking asshole once and for all.”

“Told you we should have just killed him,” Rafe said nonchalantly.

Jordan snorted. “And I didn’t disagree, but that’s messy in a way we don’t need right now. We have to be smarter about this, make sure we’re around to keep her safe—to keep all of our families safe.”

Rafe didn’t reply, and it sounded like he was tinkering with the machinery. Whatever the missing piece was, it must be ready to go now.

I knew I wasn’t getting any more sleep, I yawned and stretched, rolling over and to lift my head like I was sleepy and confused. Two sets of eyes locked on me.

"Hey," I greeted Rafe, trying really freaking hard to shove my dirty thoughts aside. No matter how good of friends these guys were, I seriously doubted they'd be cool sharing a girlfriend long term. They were both too alpha. Even Jordan, despite his relaxed nature.

Not to mention the sheer scandal if it all got out. Two crown heirs both fucking the same penniless vagrant? A ballot winner, no less. I'd probably find myself strapped to a concrete block at the bottom of the Atlantic before the newspapers even printed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep," I said to Jordan with a small smile. "Did I miss anything?"

He shook his head and crossed back over to me, sliding into the warm space at my side and draping his arm over my shoulders. "Nothing important," he replied before cuddling me into his side and kissing my hair. "I'm glad you got a bit of sleep. You’ve looked so exhausted this week."

I yawned, wriggling around until I was comfortable with my head resting on Jordan's shoulder and my feet tucked up on the seat. It should have been awkward, snuggling with my secret boyfriend in front of my occasional angry-fuck buddy, but it wasn't. It felt oddly calm.

"I haven't been sleeping much," I admitted.

Rafe shot a dark look at Jordan, who made a disgruntled noise.

"Don't look at me like that," he chided his friend. "It's not me that's been keeping her up."

My face flamed, and I cleared my throat. There went that peaceful calm.

"Not... like that. Just from Alex and..." I sucked in a deep breath, running it all through my head with lightning speed. I hadn't told them about the engagement ring or about Alex's dad and his ticking clock. But it was all becoming too much for me to shoulder alone, and what had Jordan said? My problems were his problems now? Let's hope Rafe felt the same way.

"Alex gave me a ring." I blurted it out, then wrinkled my nose in distaste. Saying it out loud was even more cringe-worthy than it had sounded inside my head, and the stunned look on Rafe's face made me instantly regret telling them. I couldn't see Jordan's expression, but the tension radiating through his body kinda clued me in.

"What kind of ring?" Rafe demanded, looking... panicked? Nah, that must've been sleep deprivation reading his expression all wrong.

I rolled my eyes. "A nipple ring. Idiot." That answer was pure sarcasm, and I made sure it was clear in my deadpan glare. "He gave me a fucking diamond engagement ring. A huge, ugly, billion-carat stone. Apparently his father—King Steve—wants him to either marry me or impregnate me before the end of the school year."

Rafe flipped a table. The low coffee table that held scattered papers with Jordan's handwriting all over them was upended and landed with a crack of breaking wood.

"Dramatic, much?" I remarked, leaning on my strongest defense mechanism. Snark. "Neither option is going to happen. Obviously. Once this virus that Jordan activated works, Alex is going to end up in a whole pile of shit for hacking confidential files. Right?"

"Temporarily," Rafe snapped, his chest heaving and his fists clenching. He wanted to hit something. Bad.

Jordan shifted away from me and swiped a hand through his hair in a telltale gesture of agitation. "We need to work on plan B," he muttered, mostly to himself, then looked up at Rafe. "Did you cover for me with coach?"

It took me a second to understand what he was talking about, but then it clicked. Friday afternoons were soccer practice before the game on Saturday. Jordan must have skipped it to stay with me.

Rafe gave a jerking nod, his brow still furrowed. "I did, but he was still pissed. There’ve been more resistance attacks, and all the increased security has Coach on edge."

“Why are they attacking?” I asked the princes, since they were on the inside. In a manner.

The pair exchanged a look. “Truthfully, these are not official Society-sanctioned attacks,” Jordan told me. “Not that we’re involved in everything, but from what we’ve heard, these might be some extremist wings of the group acting off book, so to speak.”

Great. Just fucking great.

Rafe’s jaw was tight, and I could tell there was something more that he needed to say.

“Do you know more about this?” I asked him.

Rafe shook his head.

"You're holding something back,” Jordan said as he crouched down to start tidying the papers up. “I can tell."